Struggling with my mental illness has made life difficult for me, and impossible at times. My Spitfire isn't just a car to me, it's my salvation. I've regained my sense of self ,love, and the joy of life.
This is my story, my car and my life.
I hit rock bottom a few months ago, unable to leave my house or even get out of bed. I quit giving a shit about everything and was consumed in sadness, and a deep seated bitterness. A friend bought this orange car, that had been sitting and lifeless for years in a backyard in Tucson. His understanding of the situation was as life was being breathed into the car; it would breath life into me. It is something that I could work on for moments,hours,days, and whatever I can manage. This project has forced me to ask for help, talk to complete strangers and make new friends. I started out with minimal mechanical knowledge, and I'd never heard of Triumph cars before. The first time I saw it, I stared at it for hours, tracing all of it's lines in my mind. The hounds-tooth seats were captivating, matching orange and just large enough for me to sit comfortably. I'm not a tall individual and this car felt like it was built for me, everything within reach. The previous owner did the interior up, professionally and delicately. That son of a bitch didn't touch anything mechanical, but that's how I ended up with the car.
It sat for a week before I touched it, and it's been in my hands eve since. The first time I got it to crank (A bottle of starting fluid does wonders) I was filled with such excitement I thought I was going to explode. Fuel pump was the first thing I installed, then a battery, oil change, and a water top off. It cranked and idled comfortable at 1k, and I thought it'd be a good idea to drive across town. Damn, I was so wrong. The car was running off the battery, not the alternator. I pushed that car for miles back into my friends driveway. I ordered an alternator and installed it, jumped the car and fed it new tires. If you get a new car, check the radiator. Again, stranded in a parking lot pissing coolant out like it was free. Still went to work, hitched 130MI and caught a ride back the same day. Amazon delivered the new radiator and the parts store had all the hoses for a fresh install. After a Midnight parking lot swap and a few gallons of blue drink and a new thermostat, I was ready to rock. Of course, it's a Spitfire and the trouble was far from over. I drove it maybe 5 feet before oil was pouring out of the pressure sender. FML
Parts store had one in stock a few miles away thankfully. Speedo broke on the way home but I still don't care enough to replace it.
I left Tucson the next morning, on it's maiden voyage home. For such an impossible sounding mission, it was a success. With only 2 weeks into the build and with a running car I knew that I accomplished something worth talking about. The project took off after that, posting on forums, neighbors with their quick advice. As the car started coming along, I also started to come back together. I felt well enough to leave my house and get treatment, so I could work on my car and keep these new found friends. And god damn it's been 3 months since I started this and 2 months since I started treatment. I feel fine again, for the first time in years. I'm thankful for all of the help I've received and the knowledge I've gained. Monday I will have the head back on the car with fresh valves, new clutch and a clean block.